


A Series Of Tales Told By An Utterly Unexceptional Background Character

by foxxbird



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Background characters - Freeform, Existential Crisis, F/M, I woke up at three in the morning to write this and then went back to sleep, Light Angst, Minor Original Character(s), One Shot, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Female Character, POV Original Character, Reader Is Not Main Character (Mystic Messenger), Short One Shot, Slightly depressing, change of perspective, kinda??, makes ya think, not everyone can be the main character, we have fun here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxxbird/pseuds/foxxbird
Summary: {ONESHOT}She's not the main character, but this is her story.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	A Series Of Tales Told By An Utterly Unexceptional Background Character

She’s a little thing, just part of the crowd, blinking at the ground with uninteresting brown eyes. Her face is covered with matching hair, not long but not short, its sole purpose to provide contrast for the dazzling blonde of the girl who always finds herself in front. In front of the handsome highschool boy, in front of the drama, in front of the crowd. 

She is not the main character, but this is her story. 

Her story of walking the streets late at night, her favorite time to walk them. She thinks this happily. No one else knows this, but she would have gladly told them if someone had ever thought to ask. But they hadn’t, and so she walks along the dark streets that have become her own little secret, one kept by pure accident, but a secret nonetheless. 

Her story of watching the snowflakes fall, standing alone, as she always finds herself to be, out in the field behind her house. It sits void of corn stalks, at least until next year when the snow melts, and so she stands in their place. She doesn’t mind, she never does. If anyone were to ask, she’d say her favorite season is the winter, but that secret follows her by accident all the way out to the fields. To where the snow falls so peacefully, chilling her skin so softly. She feels cold, and if anyone were there alongside her she would talk to them, but there isn’t and so she talks to the stumps of corn and tells them about how she loves the chill that comes with winter. 

Her story of stopping on the sidewalk, the bustling people knocking against her in their hurry. She holds her book, the one she doesn't mind reading whenever she has the time, and she often does these days, tight to her chest. Brown eyes blink at the flash of blonde hair from across the street, its beauty standing out amongst the dark crowd, drawing every eye to the scene. The girl, a beauty of light eyes and soft features, hops to her tiptoes to hug a handsome boy with a smile. They both smile, so full of warmth, and so she smiles too, even though she has no one to smile with. She watches the couple of blonde hair and soft laughter, stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk, the crowd cresting around them as if part of a tide while she’s pushed further down the street by grumbling voices and men in suits. She smiles, because they were so sweet and she loves sweet things. She wonders if that will stay a secret, too. 

Her story is not one that would be written down, or met with gasps and sparkling eyes, or made into a movie. It is one of quiet nights and the smell of frost and smiles that make others smile as well for no reason at all. It is almost a tragedy, not quite a romance, far from a comedy, filled with blonde haired girls and filling a small part of a big crowd and secrets kept by accident. 

It is hers, and she finds comfort in knowing that blonde can also provide contrast for brown, and that crowds don’t always have a front, and accidental secrets are secrets all the same. 

If anyone would ever bother to ask, which they haven't yet but she hopes they will soon, she would smile and tell the story that is wholefully hers. Until that day comes, somewhere amongst the dark night and cold corn fields, it will stay as one of many secrets she had never meant to make.

**Author's Note:**

> i think i was possessed while writing this :D 
> 
> I wrote it in under five minutes and sat and stared at it for like three hours. the concept really made me have an existential crisis and I think the writing reflects that?? haha anyway...
> 
> thanks so much! love you guys, and take care <3


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